


Elysium

by jam_minimini



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21828748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jam_minimini/pseuds/jam_minimini
Summary: “Do you think this is our first life?”It’s a quiet afternoon aboard the Argo II, and Annabeth has a lot to say to the clear blue sky and the glistening ocean.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 25
Kudos: 220





	Elysium

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first PJO/HoO work on AO3!! I got lazy and didn't proof read so I'm sorry if there are any spelling/grammar errors. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this percabeth piece! ❤

It’s really quiet. The only sounds that can be heard are the sweeping wind and the crashing of the ocean waves against the ship's hull. The rest of the crew are either tinkering somewhere or asleep, and it’s understandable. They had spent a huge portion of the night defending their ship from a very fearsome, very large and very hungry sea serpent, and it already took a lot out of their energy just to give it enough trouble to send it scampering. It’s a little bit worrying that a now even angrier and even hungrier sea serpent is still beneath them in the dark waters, but they’ll just have to bet on the possibility that they had charred it enough with lightning and greek fire to keep it away.

And so today, the day after the intense endurance match with a sea monster, on a sunny afternoon after a night of vicious rain and relentless winds, Percy is the only one left on the deck, keeping an eye on any creature that might try to kill seven tasty half bloods and serve them with soy sauce. 

Hazel, that sweet girl, had insisted that Percy rest because he had worked hard last night keeping the ship upright as it was battered by the strong winds, the bullet-like rain and the thrashing of the serpent. Not only that, he had tried to control the currents to continuously keep pulling the serpent down. Thinking about it now, Percy is pretty sure he’s supposed to be down in his room as well, snoring the day away, but surprisingly enough, even to himself, he’s got energy to spare. He told Hazel to not worry and sent her off to sleep. She herself hadn’t looked too good, brought by seasickness. 

He supposes it has something to do with experience. He’s been fighting monsters since he was 12, and every year, the difficulty just keeps bumping and bumping. He’s pretty sure that with his stupid luck, last night’s fight isn’t the boss battle yet, just another level in his life--the life that the gods and titans and giants and what other higher being that didn’t act like it just  _ love  _ to play with. Still though, that serpent was no Charybdis or Scylla. And unlike previous experiences, he’s got more teammates now. He hasn’t decided yet if that’s a good thing--that more demigods’ lives are being put on the line--but he’s thankful anyway. Thankful that he’s now got Jason who flies and zaps serpent tongues; Leo who expertly shoots greek fire from a makeshift bazooka; Piper who is brave enough to distract massive, violent creatures with her charmspeak; Frank who can shoot ten arrows on each serpent eye with a single fire; and Hazel who despite her delimiting seasickness continues to fight by sending sunken cannonballs shooting up from the depths of the ocean. Compared to the past, when he had been merely an innocent adolescent who has barely gone through puberty, cluelessly trudging on a quest with a barely structured plan, with no one but his two best friends by his side, things should be a lot easier now that he has five other super-powerful demigods helping him. (Except that’s not true, because their enemies have not only grown in strength, but also in size and number;but, the new comrades provide a sense of comfort that he has someone to depend on, and a sense of responsibility that he has people to protect, enabling to fight more fiercely.)

Speaking of old companions, he hasn’t seen Annabeth since last night. Unlike the others, she hadn’t been fighting with them on the deck. She had been fighting her own battle under her blankets--trying to sleep a sudden fever off whilst in a violently rocking ship. She had told Percy not to worry and focus on his role, but now that there is no longer an immediate danger, his anxiousness about her condition has returned, heightened with the guilt that he wasn’t able to tend to her. 

Deciding that there aren’t any alarming monsters within their vicinity, Percy leaves the deck and goes into the hull. All the doors in the hall are closed except for one--Annabeth’s. He can see light and shadows of a billowing curtain and of various objects coming from the room. She must have her window open, letting the sunlight and wind flow freely into the corridor.

When he steps in front of her door frame, just before the threshold, he has to physically stop and take a moment to collect himself, because Annabeth looks really pretty-- _ golden-- _ against the sunlight, and Percy still can’t fathom even now how he has the privilege to call her his girlfriend.

He leans against the door frame, if only to keep looking at her image this way, while she hasn’t noticed his presence yet. She looks healthier, and no longer half dead, so Percy eases his worries. She’s sitting on her bed, knees against her chest, looking out of the open window and gazing at the sea. Her hair is softly swaying with the wind, but not too strongly, for it is weighted by the dampness of her hair--a telltale sign that she had just come from the shower. Suddenly, Annabeth sighs, bites her lip, and mutters a name so softly, so full of feeling: “ _ Percy _ .”

She’s thinking about him. She hasn’t noticed him at her door yet. Percy’s heart lurches, and he hadn’t meant to lose control, but the Argo slightly lurches as well. 

Annabeth’s head abruptly turns towards where he is, but she’s caught by surprise, so she must have not been expecting him there. 

“Is there something wrong? Is there another attack?”

Percy is too embarrassed to say that he just felt flustered by her, so he lies, “Um, no. I think we almost hit a breaching whale.”

“Oh, I wish I could’ve seen that,” Annabeth muses.

Percy frowns. “Hitting a whale?”

Annabeth’s face contorts in her subtle annoyance, but she’s fighting a smile, trying not to laugh--her default face when she’s with Percy. “No, Seaweed Brain, a  _ breaching  _ whale.”

“I could call one up for you,” Percy offers. He walks over to the edge of the bed and sits opposite of Annabeth. 

Annabeth smiles, and the way the sun hits her cheeks has Percy’s heart racing. He wants to kiss her. 

“Thanks, but no thanks, Percy. I’d rather see it by chance,” she wistfully says. She stares out of the window once more, once again absorbed with her thoughts. 

“What ‘you thinking about?”

Annabeth’s gray eyes shift back to him, and she bites her lip, blinks prettily, and Percy’s reminded of a song he heard playing in a New York mall, with the piano intro and lyrics that make him think of Annabeth, how breathtaking she is and everything. And it’s so weird how she affects him these days, because back when they were twelve, although she already had been pretty then, Percy never saw her more than a smarty pants friend who always seemed to know the answer. These days, at sixteen, almost five years since then, his heart has been shaking at the mere thought of her smile. And he’s always so distracted by her, always wants to touch her, have his arm wrapped around her. It’s almost annoying to be so in love, if it didn’t feel this great.

“Just thinking,” Annabeth starts, and Percy had been so caught up with staring and being mesmerized by her that he forgot that he even asked her something in the first place.

“Do you think this is our first life?”

Percy is caught off guard by the question.

“I...I can’t say I know,” Percy says with a frown.

“Yes, no one would know, except Hades maybe, but what do you think?”

Percy pauses. He’s never really thought about this particular feature in life. He had been to the Underworld a couple times, and each time, he had thought about being part of those milling souls in the fields. He had aimed for Elysium, and eventually for the Isle of the Blest, but he’s never considered that this may not have been his first life, that maybe his soul had already been used before, hopefully by someone who was also good and had gone to Elysium. 

But then again, it’s so mind-boggling to think so. What if he had been a kind hearted baker in his past life, then suddenly he’s the son of the powerful Poseidon in this one. It’s unfathomable how a demigod could just...be born into the world with a soul that could’ve just been from anyone or anything. Maybe at the back of his head, he had expected to be a special case. But maybe he’s been too entitled lately, being the son of one of the Big Three, being the hero of Olympus, being invincible at some point, praised and revered by his fellow camp members. It doesn’t bother him too much, just surprises him by the normalcy of it all. 

“There are some people online who say that when you feel deja vu out of nowhere, it’s because you’re remembering something from your past life,” Percy says. “Have you felt that?”

“Yeah,” Annabeth thoughtfully agrees. “But in the end we can never be sure.”

“Let’s just do our best in this one, to get to Elysium,” Percy says, placing a hand on her foot. It’s not the most romantic place, but it’s the nearest part of Annabeth he can reach. “And we’ll wait for each other, and try for the Isle of the Blest.”

“With all the crap they’ve been throwing at us, the least they could do is bring us to Elysium,” Annabeth mutters, and the contempt in her voice surprises Percy. It’s not like he doesn’t understand, though. At some point, even he had resented the gods for toying with them, using them as pawns to settle their own problems. But he knows that holding onto those grudges is unhealthy, so he creeps closer to Annabeth, removes his hand from her foot and places it on her knee instead--a more intimate place, if you will.

“And you’re absolutely right, Wise Girl. But don’t think about it too much. You’ll get wrinkles and frown lines. The Aphrodite cabin will bug you forever--”

Annabeth flicks him in the forehead, but he knows that she got the point. She smiles at him endearingly. 

“You’re full of kelp,” she says, her hand brushing through his hair. Percy wishes he shampooed it. It probably stank and stuck from all the saltwater. Scratch that--Percy worries there might be actual kelp in his hair.

Then Annabeth’s smile turned into a sad one. She faces the window once again. The ocean is ironically calm compared to the thoughts that must be storming around in her head. Annabeth has a lot kept inside her, and Percy knows that. Percy wants to help with that.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He offers, doesn’t demand, just so she could say no if she doesn’t want to. 

She wordlessly nods. She takes a few seconds to organize her thoughts. She always does that when she has something particularly long to say. It must be an Athena thing, because usually Percy just blurts out everything in his mind at the moment, with the excuse that he’s just being honest. Maybe he should learn a thing or two from Annabeth to be more tactful. 

“It’s unfair, isn’t it?” Annabeth starts. “There are people in this world who are so unbothered, so blissfully ignorant of the things that are happening around them, how the end of the world could be at their door--but they don’t know about it. Some people’s worst problems are how to get to class without getting late.”

Percy doesn’t talk, just lets her talk. He nods and reacts from time to time just to show that he’s listening. He lets her have the moment and empty herself out to him. 

“Then here we are, on a ship that we built ourselves, sailing to Italy not for touristic intents, but to save our friend who’s  _ dying  _ and risk my life because my mother has gone haywire--all at the same time trying to fulfill a quest that I barely understand--”

Percy looks up at her in guilt. They had relied on her too much. The pressure must have been crushing her all this time, with the additional anxiety that the Mark of Athena has been giving her. She’s been so strong, and he hopes she knows that. 

“We’re sixteen! Hazel is thirteen! We’re supposed to be in high school solving math problems and wondering what to wear for prom. It’s summer! We’re supposed to be on Long Island beach having a picnic with our friends, but we’re not. It’s not that I’m discrediting the mortals’ problems, but I wish I only had to worry about paying bills and passing quizzes. I’ve had enough of nearly dying every single day. I’m so tired, Percy.”

Annabeth is not crying, but Percy can feel every bit of her sadness, her grief and exhaustion. And now that she has said it, he feels it too--the weariness in his bones, the constant stiff feeling of having to check for undersea monsters all the time, the emotional fatigue that has been there since he was young and bullied for being ADHD and dyslexic. But he has his mom, Grover, Annabeth, Chiron and all of Camp Half-Blood, even his Camp Jupiter friends to thank for that. If not for them, he’d literally be  _ dead _ . Dead in every possible way--physiologically, emotionally, socially. These people who stood by him helped him live, and Percy truly hopes that he could be that person for Annabeth. He hopes he could be a source of comfort at times when the world is just too much of an ass that kept swinging Minotaur dung at them. 

Percy takes one of her hands and kisses the back of it. “You’re so strong; you know that?”

Annabeth doesn’t answer, but she softens, relaxes at her boyfriend’s touch. She brings her knees down and wordlessly asks for a hug by spreading her arms. Percy complies, and he makes sure she’s comfortable by placing an arm around her neck to be used as a pillow before they recline and cuddle. 

“Who’s guarding?” Annabeth asks, her voice muffled by Percy’s chest. Percy is endeared.

“Leo is,” Percy lies again. Annabeth needs this time to stop worrying. He thinks Leo has been awake this whole time anyway, because he had heard metal clanging against each other earlier. Unless that was Buford. He can trust Buford too, anyway.

“So I have you all to myself this afternoon?”

Percy swallows. The way she says it makes his skin prickle. He’s gone stiff against Annabeth, and he can only pray that he uhm...doesn’t go any stiffer.

“Yeah. Just us. Whole afternoon. You and me. The door is open,” Percy notes in disdain. He’s really comfortable in this position. He doesn’t want either of them to move. But Annabeth is all pressed up against his side, and all he wants to do right now is devour her alive.

Annabeth laughs at his dilemma. She reaches up and kisses his cheek. “Thank you for being here. For understanding.”

Percy looks down at her and his eyes soften. She looks so earnest, so vulnerable. Nothing compared to how she is in battle--like a warrior goddess who probably knows all the ways to kill you. She’s so complex and multidimensional, and she’s so real, so warm, so perfect. 

“Of course. We’ve been through all that together,” Percy says with a voice just as soft as the kiss he places on her forehead. “I’ve been thinking those things too. But you--” Percy looks at her in the eyes directly, and speaks to her soul--so that he’s not only speaking to Annabeth, but the other lives she has lived, and all the other lives she’ll ever live-- “you make it worth it.”

Annabeth blushes so fiercely red that she starts looking like a tomato. Percy has the urge to tease her, but he doesn’t. He just chuckles and holds her tighter so she can hide her face against his chest.

She says something, but he doesn’t catch it, since it’s muffled by his shirt. When he asks, she looks up at him, still red and a little disheveled-- “I said, I’m happy that it’s you I’m stuck with, Seaweed Brain.”

It’s Percy’s turn to blush. He’s happy, too. So stupidly happy that a grin erupts in his face and he can’t keep himself from kissing Annabeth over and over and over. 

“You’re my soulmate, alright? If you die first, don’t get reincarnated without me,” Annabeth tries to say seriously, but she has a smile on her face that she’s trying to clamp away.

“Just as long as you promise me that, too. I’m not sure I could date an old lady--ow!” 

She’s annoyed, but she’s biting her lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. Everything’s alright, at least for this moment. 

“Maybe we could request Hades to let us become regular mortals in our next lives,” Percy muses.

“That’d be nice,” Annabeth agrees. “Maybe I could become a world famous architect.”

“And I’d become...uhm...world famous...fish?”

Annabeth laughs loudly without constraint, and Percy feels so proud that he was able to elicit such a response from her. He had been genuinely confused, not even trying to make her laugh, but he gets to see her this happy, so no complaints from him.

“I’m sure you’ll be great wherever you end up. Percy Jackson’s soul is just like that,” Annabeth whispers against his neck, softly, full of feeling.

“I don’t know if I’ll be good at anything in my next life, but Percy Jackson’s soul will forever love yours. You can count on that,” Percy says thoughtlessly, as if it’s just a given, a true fact, a constant. The sky is blue; the sun shines; water flows; Percy loves Annabeth.

Annabeth turns red for the second time that day. She looks amazing. 

“Who knew you could be so romantic?” Annabeth teases.

“I’m not,” Percy smiles. “I’m just really honest.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They meet in a university. She’s studying architecture, and he’s an athlete. She studies most of the time, and he trains every single day, but the Fates place them in the library one afternoon. 

He’s drooling in his textbook, and she has the heart to wake him up. They exchange numbers, in a few months exchange hearts and in four years, exchange wedding vows. 

She graduates summa cum laude. She heads an architecture firm that reduces environmental harmful wastes and provides just benefits for her employees. She becomes Woman of the Year. She redesigns the White House. She dies of cardiac arrest at age 73.

He ends off his college swimming career with a bang, finishing first in all his competitions with a sweeping record. He gets injured. Something at the small of his back dysfunctions; he nor the doctors don’t know why, but they called it a strain. It takes two years until he gets back in the pool. He competes in the Olympics. He wins silver. He becomes a household name, and inspiration to many. He dies shortly after his wife passes. People say he loved her too much.

All their life, the feel as if they needed to do well, to do good, like an inner drive telling them that it’ll all be worth it in the end. 

_ “You drool when you sleep.” _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They met at a fancy bar where she had been singing part time to finance her studies. She got attention from all the shallow soldiers that were regulars who loved her for her sultry voice, and her blond curls. All the men there have asked for her hand at some point, but she rejected every single one of them remorselessly. She had no time to play around with men who don’t know anything about love, who objectify women and disgrace mothers by catcalling women. They used their power and authority to get her to be them out of fear since they couldn’t get her with love. She never budged.

She loved the bartender, instead. Lanky and unimpressive compared to the manly, strong muscled soldiers who courted her. The bartender was uneducated, but wise and witty; weak, but courageous; poor, but had a heart of gold; he led a sad life, but he was the funniest man she knew. He was hardworking and diligent, and on particularly busy days, he’d pass out on the counter, exhausted and drooling.

When the war worsened, he had to enlist in the army. He had died then, and she had been distraught. She had never loved another man in her life. She died at the hands of a drunk soldier for saving another woman from being harassed. 

“ _ I don’t have anything. I’m nothing special, but I do love you. You can count on that.” _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave kudos/comments if you liked it, so i can improve my writing. Thank youuuu ❤


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